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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218969">i'm falling again, i'm falling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kategkateg/pseuds/kategkateg'>kategkateg</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Casual Sex, Clubbing, Complicated Relationships, Drinking, Exes, Heartbreak, Hurt, Longing, M/M, Old Friends, One Direction Reunion, Pining, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Destruction, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Songfic, larry - Freeform, sad!harry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:56:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kategkateg/pseuds/kategkateg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You can fall down the stairs, fall into a dark pit of self-destruction, fall in love. All of these things have already happened to Harry and Louis, and now everything is in the past. </p><p>One day all four of them meet again to start working together, and it all happens to cause an avalanche, which would lead to new bruises and broken hearts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At times, thoughts can be as destructive as the flood after a dam has ceased to hold itself together. Wiping away the walls that used to contain your inner demons, it is deadly to let the water spill. Nevertheless, these things tend to happen on their own accord.</p><p>When you are at your lowest point, you can easily find yourself waking up in the afternoon, surrounded by the washed-out green sheets that you hate. It’s just that at times like this the weight of your thoughts is greater than the hatred for the set of sheets, which was your only choice since you couldn’t bring yourself to do the washing.</p><p>The sheets didn’t have any memories attached to them. The color just was unbearably ugly.</p><p>Harry was lying under the covers, still not wanting to open his eyes. He knew that he would be hit with soft daylight and immense guilt. Lately, he couldn’t wake up at a normal hour, even if he went to bed before midnight. Lately, everything was harder for him.</p><p>He turned to lie on his back and brought his hands to his face, harshly rubbing it in an attempt to force himself awake. He opened his eyes and brought his hands to his hair, getting his fingers caught up in the infinite of knots. He had a feeling that they didn’t form overnight.</p><p>Harry got lonely a lot. It hit especially hard in the morning and late evening when the lightning went through his bedroom window in shades that were full of empty promises. He could go about his day pretending that no one was home just yet, but it’s harder to do when you don’t wake up to familiar smells that have just started to disappear, or when you don’t have anyone to wait for to go to bed with. Sometimes solitude could be good. Harry could often find inspiration in being lonely. However, there were only so many sad songs that could go on one album.</p><p>When his stomach was beginning to rumble, he finally stood up. The bedside clock told him it was a bit past two. Harry thought that there were kids that were already done with school at this hour, and he just got out of bed. He tripped on his way to the bathroom, for the twentieth time promising to himself that he would clean up the mess that was his bedroom.</p><p>When he got to the bathroom, he found himself startled by the sight of a stranger in his house. The man looked dirty and worn out, and he looked at Harry with fear and guilt. He didn’t look like he meant any harm. He looked desperate. His clothes were stained; his hair was visibly tangled. The man’s eyes looked tired and a bit puffy, so it was nearly impossible to figure out the color of his eyes.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Harry asked him. The man didn’t respond, and Harry didn’t even think that he would in the first place. It would be weird to assume that your own reflection would carry out a conversation.</p><p>That’s what endorsing self-pity does to a human being. It ruins you, both physically and mentally. Even if Harry decided that it was finally time to properly groom himself, he wouldn’t be able to pull off an extravagant shirt. It wouldn’t match his personality, because with time he had become just as boring and blank as the browns of the tiles in his bathroom. To say the truth, even those tiles looked more lively than his grim self, offering a mundane comfort of their familiarity for Harry to feel like there was at least one constant in his life – his brown bathroom tiles.</p><p>Until recently, he could never understand how people could submerge themselves completely under the streams from the shower. Now he found himself liking it. The warm – sometimes scolding water would wrap him completely as if he was hugged by someone, blocking his senses by pouring down his head and leaving only the sensation of warmth surrounding his whole body.</p><p>Harry pulled his hands to his face and covered it, allowing himself to breathe in some air through his nostrils. He was sober, yet he felt like he was about to pass out from having too much to drink. It happens, when your mind is not doing you any favors and you hate yourself just enough to maybe eat one sandwich in a day and a half. Harry was weak, both mentally and physically, and it started to get annoying.</p><p>Having breakfast in bed is not a luxury when you willingly spend there all day. Not leaving the house and still getting money is not a benefit of your career if you feel imprisoned inside your own home. Although it’s not always this way. It’s rarely this way, actually. But the human mind is a wonder, and it doesn’t even always take the smallest of triggers for it to slip into self-destruction.</p><p>Thankfully, everything passes. In a day or two, Harry would dance around the house again, remembering old tunes and coming up with new ones. There’s always a rainbow after the rain. It’s just that when it rains, it pours. Harry’s rain was almost over, and he needed to get back on track.</p><p>He also needed to buy an extra set of sheets. And, perhaps, a smaller bed, because there’s no use for having a king-sized one when there are no familiar smells that have just started to disappear, or when you don’t have anyone to wait for to go to bed with.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I'm in my bed<br/>
</em>
  <em>And you're not here</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you want to fully experience the first two paragraphs, you should listen to this from 0:17 while reading https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFlOHJov9Yc&amp;list=LLfvHQ3Xjx_VgfFcyPRCSDOQ&amp;index=3&amp;t=0s</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thin silk was draping his chest, cascading down in a waterfall manner, looking infinite with the folds of fabric tucked into the trousers. The cold, gliding sensation met hot velvet, showing faint hints of ink in places where the shirt was smoothed out against his skin. The tightness of the trousers’ waist was keeping secrets of the landscape beneath, teasingly hugging him a little lower. His long toned legs looked sinful, disappearing under the flare at the bottom – an invitation to guess how good they looked down there. You can imagine, but you can’t see. You can look, but you can’t touch.</p>
<p>His lips were slightly wet and parted – a perfect mixture of lush and lust. There was a little glimpse of his flawlessly white teeth; he was like a predator showing off his deadly weapons to his prey. The dewy skin of his neck was a forbidden fruit – if you bite it, you would fall from the high of heaven to the heat of hell, so hard that your head wouldn’t stop spinning. His fingers were long and mesmerizing – a wolf in sheep’s clothing that would break you apart faster than it would take for your racing heart to beat once more. The most expensive vintage rings were wrapped around those fingers, just like many people that he didn’t even care to know. The worth of diamonds and opals bowed down to his. He was the incredible jewel, not them.</p>
<p>The neon lights of the night club’s entrance fell onto his face, highlighting his bone structure in the best possible way. Bright, flashing, blasting – it was all or nothing, black and white, dark and bright. Just like he himself, it was a rollercoaster of people’s break ups and make-ups, and that’s why he sometimes liked going there. But never without friends, because he could easily drown in the sea of bodies and something less hot but much more unwinding.</p>
<p>Walking through the crowd was like walking through Sodom and Gomorrah. There was so much filth that it wasn’t surprising that STDs were the plague of the contemporary. In the end, people here were investing in stocks rather than in their manners. Step by step, carefully maneuvering his body between those drunk and grinding, he reached the second floor. It was darker here, less intense but more intimate, which suggested that the intensity was happening behind the toned glass of the most expensive VIP booths.</p>
<p>His friends were of a different kind than those people downstairs. Yes, they had flaws and a lot of them, but they were still caring people. That’s why he found himself here, in the nightclub they day after he thought that putting himself together was like trying to win a race against Husain Bolt. Text after text, FaceTime after FaceTime, and there he was – walking to his friends, giving them a smile and a small wave.</p>
<p>His best friend was ecstatic to see him. He was just like a puppy with his bright eyes and “waggling tail” – moving around the seat, pushing other people a little away so Harry could sit beside him.</p>
<p>“Glad you came,” said Jessy. He half-hugged Harry and then lured him into the conversation with everyone else.</p>
<p>They all were shouting to over talk the music, which was one of the first times when Harry had actively used his vocal cords in weeks. It wasn’t the best decision, and his throat will probably be sore tomorrow. But tomorrow will be a different day, and tonight it was all about getting together – both himself and with his friends.</p>
<p>The drinks were pouring almost as fast as words, and time was flowing like a spring from the mountains. Harry’s laughs went from quiet to loud and from fake to sincere in less than an hour and five or six shots. Jessy was carefully eyeing him, giving him side glares from time to time, which Harry was professionally ignoring. He let himself be and wanted for Jessy to do the same.</p>
<p>His blood was filling with a foreign liquid, and so was his bladder, so he excused himself and got up to head downstairs to the restrooms. He wasn’t as wobbly as he thought he might be – a pleasant bonus to his tall frame.</p>
<p>Walking down the stairs was definitely harder than walking up those exact stairs a couple of hours earlier. He was far from sober, and so were other people at this hour. The dance floor was a misty mess. People were all over each other, spilling drinks and lies in an attempt to have a fun night with another body. Late nights in night clubs were always inhumane. There was no such thing as a human being. There were only curves and muscles, on which, to be fair, most of these people’s personalities were built on anyway.</p>
<p>The bathroom didn’t have any aggressive speakers, but the buzzing in Harry’s ears was so loud that he wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of running water even if he tried really hard to do so. His vision wasn’t blurry but his eyes were pulsating, so he ran his wet hands across his face, stopping for a couple of seconds on his eyes, providing some coolness for them to rest.</p>
<p>When he walked out of the bathroom, his gaze went wandering around the club for a bit before stopping on the bar right next to him. Without much thinking, he made his way there and leaned against the dark wooden surface, waiting for the bartender to get to him.</p>
<p>“You look like someone who would have a surprising choice when it comes to ordering a drink,” a voice emerged, spiking his attention up.</p>
<p>However, it wasn’t the bartender. It was a guy on the right to Harry, trying to make his smile friendly but failing to fool Harry. Even if his smile was light, his eyes were hungry. Not alarmingly hungry, but still with a clear interest in them.</p>
<p>His thick caramel curls were freshly cut and perfectly styled with an intentional strand positioned slightly away from the rest of the curls, hanging over the guy’s forehead. His jaw was sculpted, with a slight shadow on it. He was wearing a diamond stud in his left ear and a turtleneck under his suit. He looked good.</p>
<p>Harry’s eyes lingered on the guy’s appearance for a bit too long, so he was slightly late to reply when the bartender asked him what he wanted.</p>
<p>“Just like I said. It’s quite unusual to see a guy order a cosmopolitan,” the guy smiled at him, clearly proud that he guessed right.</p>
<p>Their conversation went from cheerful chatting to seductive whispering when both of them have gone through a couple more cocktails, each time choosing something stronger. Harry couldn’t quite tell when they moved to the dance floor, impossibly close to one another, not even trying to hide the mutual desire. Soon, Harry had to send a text to Jessy before leaving the nightclub to get into the car accompanied by the curly guy.</p>
<p>Kisses went down, closes went off, all of the lights went out and then there was the kickoff.</p>
<p>When Harry woke up to an empty bed, he wanted the faint residue of the guy’s cologne to wear off as soon as possible. He also wanted the residue of his feelings to wear off, so he didn’t feel like a betrayer when trying to piece himself together, even not in the most mature ways. As the dusk was making the final touches to the city to get it ready for the night, the scent was gone but everything else was still present. Or almost everything, because there should have been something else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>And there’s no one to blame but the drinks and my wandering hands</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That day, it was just a normal evening. The soft warm light of the living room was moving on the drawn curtains along with a light breeze from an open window. Harry had made pasta earlier on while waiting for Louis to come home from his dentist appointment. The plates were already cleaned and washed, only white wine remaining in their glasses on a kitchen counter as they were sprawled on a couch in front of a TV.</p><p>Louis’ feet were tucked in under Harry’s left thigh, his bent knees holding the comforting weight of Harry’s arm. They were both dressed in cozy sweatpants and old t-shirts, their bodies already laced with a feeling of sleepiness. </p><p>Louis reached out and tangled his fingers in Harry’s curls, massaging his head with one of his hands. Harry’s lips curled upwards, his eyes closed, leaning into the touch. On the TV screen, Charlie was buying chocolate in hopes of getting his Golden Ticket.</p><p>“You act just like a cat,” Louis smiled warmly, applying a little more pressure to the circular motions of his fingers.</p><p>“Be thankful I don’t smell like one,” Harry replied, turning his head to kiss Louis’ forearm.</p><p>Louis giggled at that, his hand slipping out of Harry’s curls and gliding down to his cheek, his thumb now caressing the soft skin. Harry caught Louis’s hand, locked their fingers and littered small soft kisses all over. Louis pushed his feet even further underneath Harry’s thigh, leaning back against a cushion but keeping their fingers intact. <br/>
Charlie was already at the Factory when Louis put his feet down on the floor and sat up straight.</p><p>“What is it?” Harry looked at him curiously, putting some of his stranded curls behind his ear.</p><p>“We need to talk.” Louis seemed determined, yet there were traces of nervousness in his eyes. Harry sat up straighter as well, all of his sleepiness now gone. He made the volume of the TV lower and tossed the remote aside, looking at Louis attentively. </p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“When I was on my way home, management called.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>Harry squared up, his whole body becoming tense, his gaze cautious. </p><p>“And?”</p><p>Louis became visibly uncomfortable, averting his gaze from Harry’s face. He was fidgeting, pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt. It only lasted for a couple of seconds. He quickly gained his composure and looked back at Harry apologetically.</p><p>“They want me and Eleanor to go on a two-week trip.”</p><p>The silence that followed after his fords made Louis shift in discomfort, turning his body even more to face Harry properly. </p><p>“Say something,” Louis asked desperately after a few more moments have passed. Harry kept just looking at him, his body completely still. Harry looked away from him, now staring at the wooden floor of the living room.</p><p>“What do you want me to say?”</p><p>“What do you think?” Louis grew more nervous and uneasy with each passing minute. His fingers were preoccupied with tugging the strings of his sweatpants, twisting and pulling them in different directions.</p><p>“What do I think?” Harry made an abrupt turn to face Louis again. His eyebrows were rising higher and higher, disbelief was written all over his face. “What do I think?” Harry had moved past the state of his initial reaction. Now he was getting truly annoyed and disappointed, his voice growing louder. “You know damn well what I think.”</p><p>“It’s not like I’m excited either,” Louis replied to that, bringing his eyebrows closer to each other.</p><p>“Then why didn’t you tell them to piss off?” Harry’s voice was cold and rough. It made Louis squirm, not being used to it sounding like that.</p><p>“Because I can’t exactly tell our management to piss off, can I?” Now Louis was getting annoyed too. He stopped messing with his sweatpants, his gaze firm and direct on Harry’s face, whose eyebrows were now too drawn together.</p><p>“Oh, really?” Harry squinted his eyes at him and his lips formed a thin line. He leaned back against the cushions and then added, in an unnaturally calm and steady voice “Wonder how I have always been able to speak up if they were crossing the line.”</p><p>“Well, good for you. I’m not that type of person who argues with their boss.”</p><p>“Yeah, because it’s much better to argue with me instead.”</p><p>They both were glaring at each other, fuming. For a couple of moments, the room was only filled with the sound of their heavy breathing. The dialogues in the background were muted by the intensity in the air, not letting any sound get to either Harry or Louis besides their voices.</p><p>Harry’s tone had sent Louis over the edge, so he jumped to his feet, turning to look at Harry from above.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry I don’t want to initiate any conflict!”</p><p>Louis’ voice went up, his words resonating off the walls with ringing. His position felt threatening to Harry, so he found himself standing up quickly too. Louis took a step back, so now they were standing in front of the couch, a mere meter and a half between them. They were just like two cowboys from those cliché western movies, only shooting words at each other instead of guns.</p><p>“Yes, because you’re scared that they would kindly ask you to leave the band!”</p><p>But who said that words couldn’t bring more damage than a bullet?</p><p>Everything went still. Harry had realized his mistake even before he finished exclaiming the last word. The expression of anger had melted into the expression of horror, his feet starting to move forward closer to Louis at their own accord.</p><p>Louis took a step back, his features blank and cold like those of a talentedly sculptured statue. He was looking Harry dead in the eyes, and if at first the trace of the anger remained, now it seemed like all of his emotions went down the drain, the blue of his irises turning gray along with his face.</p><p>“No, Louis,” Harry started panicking, trying to get closer to Louis to grab his hand, but Louis kept backing up. “No, I am terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to say that at all!” Harry pleaded, his eyes running in every direction across Louis’ face in fear, trying to find any hint of emotion that he could hold on to. “Louis, please, please, forget what I just said!”</p><p>Harry shook his head like a dog who just came out of the water.</p><p>The memories had flooded his mind, taking him aback. He blinked a couple of times to get the sandy feeling out of his eyes from staring into the blank space for too long. Harry looked down at his hands. He was holding a teacup that he hadn’t seen in a couple of years. He had completely forgotten that it was still there, never been used after the day of their fight.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>His fingers ran around the rim, feeling a tiny chip of the porcelain that was barely visible if you didn’t know what to look for. It happened when Louis had decided to make then-popular cakes in a cup. When he took it out of the microwave, the cup was too hot for him to hold it, so he dropped it, immediately sending his body forward so the cup would slide down his leg instead of crashing into the hardwood floor with full force.</p><p>He then looked at Harry, completely terrified, and slowly kneeled to assess the damage. The biggest sigh of relief that followed suit made Harry giggle before getting up to help tend Louis’ burned fingers.</p><p>The corners of Harry’s lips slightly curled upwards in response to the memory. He sighed again and looked at the cupboard under the sink where the bin was. After a minute of hesitation and glancing between the cup and the cupboard, Harry got up on his tiptoes and shoved the cup in the furthest corner of one of the cupboards filled with kitchen clutter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Forget what I said, it's not what I meant.</em><br/>
<em>And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It seemed like the concept of summer was unfamiliar to London. Hence why Harry was putting his collar up in an attempt to protect himself from the ice-cold wind. It was 13 degrees above zero, and it also was July. A couple of years earlier, when his body still hasn’t grown accustomed to the LA weather, he probably wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable walking from the car to the building as he does now. Being back home is great, but it’s much better to be back home and enjoy the warm weather. Alas, it is what it is.</p>
<p>Harry pushed the door of an office building that looked remarkably uninviting. The whole façade was made out of dark, toned glass, so he wouldn’t be able to peek on the inside even if he wanted to. He entered the building and fixed his sweater, immediately feeling a tingling rush of warmth go through his whole body. He saw a reception desk in front of him and approached it, acknowledging the hostess behind it with a polite smile.</p>
<p>“Hello, I have a meeting in room 326,” Harry walked to the reception, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to shake the water droplets out of his hair.</p>
<p>“The elevator is right down the hallway, and the office is going to be on the left,” the hostess smiled at him politely. Harry nodded and thanked her, and then went to take the elevator.</p>
<p>When waiting for the cabin to arrive, he couldn’t help but notice that he was growing more and more nervous by the second. He felt his stomach tying itself in a big knot and smirked to himself. He had already forgotten how it felt to be <em>this</em> nervous about something. It was like he was about to walk out on the stage of X-Factor again.</p>
<p>The ride upstairs felt simultaneously too long and too fast. Harry walked out of the cabin and went to the left. Room 326 was two doors away. A heavy metal door was ensuring that nobody could peak or eavesdrop. It also allowed Harry to collect himself, take a deep breath, and push the door handle down. Further waiting wouldn’t do any better for his nerves.</p>
<p>He slowly opened the heavy door and took a step forward. Everyone was already sat around the big round table made of dark, seemingly expensive wood. There were two vacant places left at the table – one right in front of him, on the opposite side of the table, and the one on the right – between Niall and one of the publicists that they have worked with while still being in the band. </p>
<p>Everyone was chatting in pairs, so his entrance wasn’t met with an awkward silence. Judging by the fact that the vacant seat in front of him was the only big expensive leather chair in the room, Harry walked a few steps to his right and sat down next to Niall. He greeted everyone else because now all eyes were on him. The air in the room was a couple of seconds away from becoming awkward, and Harry started to feel a bit tense, trying to make a good enough small talk with the publicist to his right to appear busy. The situation was saved by a man that walked into the room merely a minute later and sat down onto the expensive chair. The meeting began.</p>
<p>The discussion went smoothly. All of the guys, their new management and some representatives of the publicists’ team had a skype call a few days ago. They have already discussed some things, so today’s meeting could be more productive. </p>
<p>In general, the discussion was situated around the announcement of them starting to work together again. However, their previous conversation didn’t mean that there was still a need for some negotiation.</p>
<p>“As we have already said before, we suggest that we schedule you on a talk-show. Late Late would be great since you all have a good relationship with James Corden already. You could appear there all together, and that would be your announcement. Late Late’s team will handle the spread of the news, and this way you wouldn’t have to do many campaigns and photoshoots,” Marta said from her spot on the right from Harry. </p>
<p>“Yeah, and how do you imagine it goes after that?” After a brief pause asked Louis. He hadn’t really spoken out today, so all eyes were glued to him. He was leaning against the back of his chair, his arms crossed. “You can’t just expect our comeback to be successful after a mere ‘press tour’.”</p>
<p>The room went silent for a few moments. Marta squared up and looked defensive now. “And what do you suggest then?”</p>
<p>“That we need to write a single first.” Now everyone turned to face Harry, surprised. Harry, however, fixed his gaze on Louis and cleared his throat. “We have to offer the public something, so it’s not just empty words.” Louis was looking at Harry as well, and his face gradually changed as he spoke. He became less tense and lifted the corners of his mouth, showing that Harry had gotten his idea right. When the discussion went further, their eye contact still lingered for a few seconds before Harry averted his gaze. </p>
<p>“This is going to take longer than I thought it would,” sighed Niall when the coffee break was finally announced. They had their food and drinks brought up into the room, so now it was filled with sounds of eating and chatting. “How much time do you reckon is it going to take for them to decide? Weeks? Months? Years? We all might as well drop dead by then already.”</p>
<p>“Well, that was expected. I have no idea what would be the best way to do it. We’re in a sticky situation of some sort, in the end,” Harry replied to that, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. “It’s nearly impossible to predict the reaction of people.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess so,” Niall shrugged his shoulders in agreement and took a bite out of his sandwich before turning to his right to sit face-to-face with Harry. “So, how have you been, my friend?” He smiled at Harry, which caused his eyes to wrinkle a bit. It reminded Harry of the fact that a lot of time has passed.</p>
<p>“Good,” Harry smiled, also turning to face Niall. “New music, some new friends, some new rings,” he lifted his palms and showed Niall his collection of extravagant vintage rings, letting out a small laugh.</p>
<p>“Yeah, mate, you’ve truly become a fashionista,” Niall laughed in response, tilting his head back a little. </p>
<p>“Well, you too have a sense of style. I liked your outfit from that episode of carpool karaoke you did with James. Do you have a stylist or is it just maturity?” Harry teased him a little, remembering how reluctant Niall was when he first started to be put in more ‘serious’ clothes by their stylists.</p>
<p>“Oi,” Niall playfully showed Harry’s knee with his. They carefully dropped the topic of that episode where James said that he liked Harry’s song better. Everyone tried to stay away from discussing their success. It would be awkward, and it has never been a competition, to begin with. All four of them were supportive of each other’s music, truly supportive, and it was enough.</p>
<p>Harry knew that there were rumors. Some people have said that they would come back only because that couldn’t be successful enough on their own. Many of those people also said that none of the other guys couldn’t be as successful without Harry, but he preferred to ignore these remarks because they didn’t seem fair to him. He was always pleasantly surprised by his bandmate’s new releases. He even had all of their vinyl records stored on a separate shelf.</p>
<p>The meeting then resumed after their food was taken away. Only some cups of tea and coffee remained among water bottles standing on the table from the beginning. Now Liam and Niall had started to actively participate in the discussion, which grew more and more complicated. After a brainstorm, they had an impressive list of ideas written on a whiteboard, but that’s the best they could do today, it seems. All of the ideas sounded actually alright, but they all had implied a rather serious preparation. Besides, nobody could agree on one particular thing. </p>
<p>Throughout the second part of the meeting, Harry kept himself more reserved, concentrating on other people’s speeches. All four band members have gained a lot of experience from working on their own. While it was helpful in terms of bringing new ideas to the table, it also made things harder. All of them had seemingly forgotten the differences between being on their own and being in a band.</p>
<p>Harry couldn’t, however, keep himself reserved when it came to glancing at Louis every other minute. He had seen Niall and Liam during their break, but not Louis. He looked older, but not in a bad way. He looked more mature. More serious. He looked like he had grown a lot as a person. Harry could tell so just by the look in his eyes. Previously, Louis wouldn’t pay too much attention during a meeting, he would look bored and would check his phone a couple of times. Now his behavior was the polar opposite of what it used to be. Except for one thing, though. He too kept glancing at Harry.</p>
<p>“Do you have a minute?” a familiar voice had asked. It sounded raspier than it was engraved in Harry’s memory but still familiar nonetheless.</p>
<p>They all were leaving the office, already, and it was only Harry and Louis who happened to be exiting the room last.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Harry replied and followed Louis away from the elevator, closer to the lobby of the third floor. They stopped next to a floor plant with a distance of two meters between them. Louis lifted his head a little and shot Harry a small calm smile.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he said, looking at Harry while resting his left shoulder against the wall. “Long time no see.” He sounded like he was talking to a childhood friend, no anger or annoyance in his voice.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Harry replied quietly, trying to give a smile back but not quite managing to do so. He was nervous, and his smile became a tiny bit crooked. Nobody would know the difference, but it was Louis. He used to know him inside out. He used to be able to figure his mood out just by listening to his breathing.</p>
<p>As Harry thought, Louis’s gaze lingered a bit on his lips, and a small chuckle came out. “Don’t be so nervous. I’m not gonna eat you,” he teased Harry, his friendly smile growing wider.</p>
<p>“What did you want to talk about?” Harry asked after letting out a sigh in an attempt to calm down a little.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to make things straight,” Louis suddenly became more serious. He pushed himself away from the wall and unfolded his arms, now standing straight and looking right into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not mad at you. We all say hurtful things sometimes with no intention to do so. I don’t want the past to influence our relationship now. I’ve moved on.”</p>
<p>A few moments have passed while Harry was looking back into Louis’s eyes. <em>I don’t want the past to influence our relationship now. I’ve moved on.</em></p>
<p>“Deal,” Harry finally replied, smiling back at Louis.</p>
<p>“Great,” Louis said. He took a couple of steps forward and lifted his arm with an open palm – an invitation for a handshake. “Peace?” He then asked, tilting his head right a little and grinning at Harry.</p>
<p>“Peace,” Harry shook his hand and nodded in agreement. They left the building together, catching up and talking about each other’s families. </p>
<p>When Harry got home at 9 pm, he felt exhausted. He went to his bedroom and gathered the last remains of his willpower to undress before climbing into the bed.</p>
<p>
  <em>I don’t want the past to influence our relationship now. I’ve moved on.</em>
</p>
<p>It was good. Louis wasn’t mad at him anymore, so it was great. </p>
<p>However, since this phrase left his mouth, Harry felt a dead weight take a permanent residence somewhere in his stomach. It was good that Louis wasn’t mad. Why was he feeling like the world has ended then?</p>
<p>
  <em>I don’t want the past to influence our relationship now. I’ve moved on.</em>
</p>
<p>Because somewhere deep down Harry thought that he still had a chance of changing things for the better. That he still had a chance at rebuilding their relationship. Somehow. If Louis was still mad, it would mean that he also still cared. But he wasn’t. </p>
<p>Harry had built an illusion in his mind of having a chance to make everything right. To redeem himself in Louis’s eyes, to not be such a piece of shit. He had subconsciously lived all this time with this thought deep inside him, hanging on it as on the very last straw. Now what?</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>What am I now? What am I now?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>What if I'm someone I don't want around?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Alcohol<br/>TW: Vomit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was determined on opening the door. His body, however, wasn’t complying as easily as he would like it too. His right hip bumped into a kitchen island pretty hard. Harry swore out loud and stopped to massage the aching spot. He was pretty positive that tomorrow morning he would wake up to a bruise. He has already turned to go back to his couch when the doorbell rang persistently three more times. Harry remembered why he stood up in the first place and carefully proceeded to go toward the door.</p>
<p>He slowly opened the door and looked at the unwanted visitor. He was greeted by the sight of Jessy with furrowed eyebrows and serious facial expression. A proper greeting wasn’t something that he got. Instead, Jessy sighed and hung his head, allowing himself into Harry’s apartment. Harry just closed the door behind him and followed him into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“I’m worried, Harry,” Jessy said without looking at him. He was standing in the middle of Harry’s kitchen, his shoulders slumped and his voice very far from being as bright and confident as usual.</p>
<p>“About what?” Harry asked, stepping closer to Jessy.</p>
<p>“About all of this,” Jessy made an abrupt turn to face Harry and vaguely gestured at his kitchen. </p>
<p>Harry let his gaze travel around the kitchen. Indeed, it was a mess. He didn’t have any dirty dishes lying around, nor did he have any week-old leftovers on one of the counters. What he did have, however, is an inappropriate amount of bottles. Big and small, clear and colorful, empty and still somewhat full, some even unopened. Beer, cider, wine, whiskey, vodka, tequila, and many more. It looked more like a liquor store than a kitchen. Only then Harry noticed that he was holding one of the bottles in his hand.</p>
<p>“Everything’s alright, Jessy,” he smiled at him and put the bottle on the counter. “I’m not even drunk.”</p>
<p>“Harry, you are practically swinging,” Jessy replied quietly, with actual sorrow in his voice.</p>
<p>Harry wanted to argue with that, but then he suddenly lost his balance and bumped into the kitchen island again. Ouch.</p>
<p>Jessy took a deep breath and started to put all of the bottles in order next to Harry’s sink. Harry climbed onto one of the barstools and was watching Jessy do his thing while sipping a tequila-flavored beer.</p>
<p>Jessy was emptying bottles in complete silence.</p>
<p>He looked back at Harry and immediately took the bottle out of his hand. The look of disappointment in Jessy’s eyes did something to Harry’s stomach.</p>
<p>Or maybe it wasn’t the look of disappointment.</p>
<p>Harry jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. He was almost successful, but his legs betrayed him in the most important moment, sending him flying down straight to the bathroom floor. Harry instinctively put out his arms and by sheer luck managed to grab the toilet, saving him both from a skull fracture and a mess on the floor.</p>
<p>He felt his stomach twist and then he was throwing up all of the liquids that he has downed today. A few seconds later he heard Jessy rush in behind him. He dropped to his knees and moved Harry’s curls that were sticking to his sweaty face out of the way.</p>
<p>They spent good fifteen minutes just like that - Harry occasionally throwing up and Jessy holding his hair or rubbing soothing circles on his back.</p>
<p>“Don’t you see it, Harry?” Jessy sounded desperate when he spoke. “Are you really this blind?”</p>
<p>There was no anger in his voice and no disgust either. It was just a mixture of hurt, despair, and disappointment.</p>
<p>Harry didn’t say anything in fear of throwing up again.</p>
<p>The first time when Jessy saw him in this state was a few years ago. That’s when Harry and Louis fought and he moved out. Harry thought that it was something temporary, that Louis would eventually forgive him, but weeks went by, and soon enough Harry realized that it wasn’t the case. He tried calling him but he was to no avail, which probably meant that Harry was blocked. It was fair enough; Harry wasn’t mad at him in the slightest. Who he was mad at, though, was himself.</p>
<p>They were supposed to meet up with Jessy that evening, but when Harry didn’t pick up his phone for the seventh time, he came to see if Harry was okay. He wasn’t.</p>
<p>He was sat on the floor against his couch with his TV on but on mute. When Jessy walked in through an unlocked door, Harry turned his head to him. His puffy dead eyes were the reason for Jessy to sit down next to him and put a reassuring hand on his knee, allowing Harry to continue drinking.</p>
<p>“You’ll be okay,” Jessy said then and Harry felt like maybe he was right.</p>
<p>Next time was uglier. Harry had realized that Louis and Eleanor were together, and it was pretty serious. He got absolutely wasted in one of the bars.</p>
<p>[Jesdy I don’t kno if I csn take it]</p>
<p>[Share your location]</p>
<p>Jessy came for the rescue, and right on time. The bartender was refusing to pour Harry any more drinks at this point, but at least he wasn’t causing a scene. He was just sitting behind the bar with his head resting on his right arm and his gaze emotionless.</p>
<p>Jessy supported Harry on their way to a cab and helped him get inside. The ride was a quiet one. After ten minutes of silence, Harry looked away from the window and tried to fix his gaze on his lap.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said quietly looking up to meet Jessy’s eyes.</p>
<p>Jessy just put his hand on Harry’s thigh and squeezed it lightly in response before putting his hand away.</p>
<p>Jessy had figured out the reason why Harry was at the state he was in, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him start crying quietly. Everything was relatively peaceful at first, and Jessy stayed away from Harry trying to give him some space. Then Harry’s drunk state kicked in and he started sobbing rather loudly, which led to Jessy and the driver exchanging a glance through a rearview mirror.</p>
<p>People say that crying requires the work of more muscles than smiling does. Sobbing also requires the work of your abs, which is not ideal when you are wasted.</p>
<p>When Harry suddenly became quiet, Jessy looked at him with surprise, thinking that it must be a mood swing of some sort. He realized how wrong he was when Harry reached out to the bag of Lay’s that was poking out of the complimentary snack stash on the back of the driver’s seat and opened it. However, instead of reaching inside of it and grabbing a chip, Harry put his face closer to the opening, and then the car was filled with unpleasant sounds and smells. It was the first time when Jessy was glad that there was a lot of air in the bag of Lay’s.</p>
<p>Jessy left a big tip to the driver.</p>
<p>And now Jessy was putting a damp cloth over Harry’s forehead while he was leaning against the cold tile of his bathroom wall with his back, his shirt tossed over a meter away.</p>
<p>Harry seemed out of it, so Jessy didn’t expect him to say anything, let alone anything coherent. That’s why he was surprised when Harry did.</p>
<p>“I know,” Harry’s voice was unnaturally even for his state, although he sounded raw.</p>
<p>“What do you know?” Jessy asked, flipping the cloth to the cooler side.</p>
<p>Harry winced before answering. His throat was already raw, and he knew that he would suffer tomorrow. Although it was debatable if he could feel worse than he does now.</p>
<p>“That I have a problem. I know that.” His eyes were still closed to block the sight of a spinning room. It didn’t help much since he felt like he was stranded on a boat in the middle of a storm, but it was at least something.</p>
<p>After a brief silence, Jessy sighed and copied Harry’s position.</p>
<p>“You need help, Harry.”</p>
<p>“I already have you,” Harry opened his eyes and turned his head to face Jessy. When they made eye contact, Harry’s lips formed a slight smile before he winced again and put his head back against the wall.</p>
<p>“No, Harry. You know what I mean.”</p>
<p>Despite the frequency of similar scenarios over the years, Jessy has never suggested this to Harry before. It all seemed relatively under control. He thought that it was okay because he had seen a fair share of wasted people in his life and had been in a similar situation multiple times himself. However, this felt different. This was different.</p>
<p>As time passed, Harry became more and more distant. He was rarely going out with friends, at least to Jessy’s knowledge, yet for a person who doesn’t go out, there were too many mornings and afternoons when Harry was hangover.</p>
<p>“I can’t Jessy,” Harry took a deep breath and flipped the cloth himself. “It would ruin my image and, perhaps, reputation.”</p>
<p>Jessy didn’t say anything to that. Perhaps, Harry was right. But even if there were certain lengths that he was ready to go to for his friend, there were still limits, and at that moment Jessy decided that if things would go even more downhill, he would have to force Harry into rehab. Losing your image and reputation was, without a doubt, a serious thing, but losing your life was much more serious.</p>
<p>Gradually, everything around Harry stopped spinning and his nausea went away just enough for him to stand up. They both went back to the kitchen, and Harry watched Jessy put all of the empty bottles in a trash bag and tie it up to throw it away on his way home. Harry said that he could do it himself but Jessy was doubting that he would leave the flat any time soon.</p>
<p>The door behind Jessy closed, and the silence fell over Harry’s flat. He wasn’t sure if the suffocating feeling was the side-effect of his intoxication.</p>
<p>And when Harry went back to his bedroom, despite the feeling of being unbelievably lonely, he was still glad that Jessy was gone. Not because he didn’t love him or didn’t appreciate his company, but because there was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on his nightstand, and the fact that it was completely empty half an hour later was one of the few things that Harry wanted to keep a secret from his best friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I'm falling again, I'm falling again,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm falling</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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